To Be
by ChocolateMilk2
Summary: Chuckles the clown discusses life in toys. Philosophical.


Why us?

What makes us different from a wall or a door or a fluffy bed throw? We are created from the same fibres, and certainly there have been toys of that size to be born into life before. But why aren't they alive too? What makes us so different from the inanimate; why do we move and breathe and feel at all?

Why are we alive?

Ask many a toy and you'll this narrow-minded sort of answers. "We live to serve," a faithful companion, "because we stuffed up in a last life," a discarded toy, left to rot in the madness of a disgusting isolation, "because we are," anyone.

That isn't enough for I, the philosopher. The sad clown.

Millions of toys are made and birthed daily, in cold, impersonal factories to live alone in white, sterile stores, never bought, never taken home, never acknowledged. Sometimes they forget how to talk, or care, or look after themselves. This is what I think of when I am told of how gracious and needful humans are, how each of us has a purpose- to serve. What about the toys who aren't needed? Man already has a best friend, the dog. We are only needed for the fraction of the time toys are seen as appropriate. Yet we live forever, and never grow old. Why? And if this was the case, wouldn't we die when our owners stopped loving us?

Millions of toys are made and birth daily in bad places, but I must acknowledge many are created in good places too. Sewed by hand from a loving grandmother to an adoring grandchild, who never knew another toy, and so much treasured it, forever, and gave it to their own appreciative kid when they grew old. A happy cycle. Does this cancel out the others? Does where we come from even matter? Is ours a neutral existence; is it all just chance that we are all alive like this and not cars or furniture or something else?

I don't think so.

I have… this theory. No, I'm not telling the gang, they'll misinterpret it and turn it into a bunch of bullshit about loving one another.

The theory, it's like. We were given life because as toys, we were made with the underlying intention to be more then the practical, or to only serve purpose. We weren't just made to entertain; we were born in many cases with the intention of replacing what otherwise would've been a comforting figure. To be something more then a prop in a story about horses. To be the stuffed animal, the loyal pony the child's parents could never afford, the Barbie the body the girl could never have, the guardian he could never hug to sleep.

Of course I don't believe, however that because of this we should all accept these roles and move on with it, heavens no. Some children… well, Hitler was a child once too. And some toys you meet are just amazing. As toys, we usually have the mental capacity of whatever it is we are lamp shading. But just occasionally, you'll hear of the Da Vinci stuck in the form of a rattle, a Mozart in the Jack In the Box. Should they be confined to playing the bad guy in mock-tea parties, playing dead all night when the owner can't sleep? Should any toy be stuck to serving a master they hate? To me, it's a wasted existence. Not the politically correct thing to say, but true in any case.

My theory goes on to state that a toy can not give life to the inanimate. As much as they might want to, as much as the loneliness might be killing them, this sadly, is accepted common knowledge. Try it, you'll see. Maybe it's not that we can't do it, but we haven't figured out the right way of going about how yet.

But, controversially, humans find it possible. You'll find a kid with a lucky scarf and his old forgotten power ranger figurine will be watching on from the corner of the room and later the figurine will be telling a miraculous story of how his owner fell asleep wishing he had a friend in the scarf and the next day it was talking to him, saying it'd just awoken from a very long sleep.

I don't know if it's true or not, or even possible. Or if we should even want it to be. Pigs can talk in this funny world of ours, they might as well fly. Usually toys need eyes to see, and a mouth to breathe. But, who knows. There are so many toys born every day in this world… Why not? Whether it's god who truly creates us, or the humans, or ourselves, life is a beautiful thing.

I'll leave it to them to make means of it.

-Chuckles


End file.
